Broken Pieces

Rose and Harry used to be inseparable. As Rose's older brother, he always looked out for her and they did everything together - not a secret kept from either of them. But when Harry became famous, he practically forgot about Rose. She didn't even receive a text or call from him on her birthday. What happens when the boys take a break from the tour and all stay in the ginormous house that Rose owns and used to share with Harry? What happened to Rose while Harry was gone? Will things go back to the way they were? Or are there too many broken pieces to put the puzzle back together?

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15. Don't Get Caught Snooping

Zayn POV

I follow her upstairs and talk to her. I can't help but stare at her arms and back, looking at all of the bruises. My temper builds and I move my arm out of her sight, clenching my fist. That bastard shouldn't be alive. 

She tells me that she responds honestly to me and that it will make her slip up. But how would she slip up? What was she hiding that she was keeping a secret? I was going to ask, but I knew how much she had been through today so I asked if I drove her crazy. She looked at me and bit her lip. I wanted to grab her in my arms so badly. Then she stuck her tongue out and said to remember that I owed her.

"How could I forget?" I ask.

"Which reminds me, you weren't supposed to get up!" She exclaims pushing me back down on the bed and crossing her arms.

"So I was supposed to let you just come up here and be upset?" I question.

"That's not the point! You have to get better," She demands. "You have to lay down," She says holding out her hand to help me up. I raise my eyebrows and lay down where I am on her bed. "That is not what I meant," She sighs. 

"I'm laying down aren't I?" I ask. 

She narrows her eyes at me. I stick my tongue out. "Fine. But just this once. Want to watch a film?" She questions.

"I don't see a tellie," I reply, looking around the room. She walks over to the cabinets straight ahead of the bed. She opens them up to reveal a ginormous flat screen television.

"So what film?" She questions.

"Do you have Harry Potter?" I ask. She nods, opening another cabinet to reveal four shelves stocked with everything from the Little Mermaid to The Notebook. On the top shelf is the Twilight series, the Batman series, and the Harry Potter series. I'm liking this girl more every minute. 

She puts the first movie in and then looks around. "There's blankets in the closet that I'll get in a minute. I'm going to make kettle corn," She says. I nod and she disappears out of the room. I get up from the bed, looking around her room. I know it's wrong, but she's definitely hiding something.

 I open the other cabinets and don't find anything unusual except for an Xbox, Wii, and PS3. I walk over to her dressers and open and close them, avoiding the top drawer which I assume is her undergarments drawer. 

I stare at the bed absentmindedly, when I see something right under the bed. I walk over to the bed and debate it. I look underneath and see a simple black box, closed and plain. I sit on the bed, wondering if I should open it, when Rose walks in. Her eyes spot the box immediately and her face goes straight - there is definitely something in this box. 

"What are you doing?" She snaps. 

"I...um," I struggle to explain. 

She puts the bowl of kettle corn down and yanks the box out of my hand, walking into her bathroom silently. After a minute she comes back out without the box. "You were snooping through my stuff?" She accuses me. 

"I'm worried about you that all. I went to get the blankets when I saw something under the bed," I lie.

She stares at me for a second and then mutters something under her breath before walking over to the closet. "What?" I ask her.

"Nothing," She lies. "Stay out of my stuff," She warns, coming back over and dumping three duvets on the bed. I noticed that it's cold in this house and that's why we all wore long jeans and jumpers. 

Once again my eyes are drawn to the bruises all over her body. I feel a pang of anger once again along with a sense of protectiveness for her. She sits down next to me and pulls a blanket over herself, grabbing the bowl of kettle corn. 

"You're mad," I sigh.

"Yeah. I am," She snaps, sitting back and leaning against the bed frame. I pout and sit back, taking some of the blanket and putting it on me too.

"I'm sorry," I apologize.

"I know," She replies. 

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